


The Unremarkable Man

by Purplechimera



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Fairy Tale Curses, Fairy Tale Elements, M/M, Witch Curses, soulmates maybe?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-27 01:30:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18294095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purplechimera/pseuds/Purplechimera
Summary: Remus is completely unremarkable. Except that Sirius can't forget him.





	The Unremarkable Man

**Author's Note:**

> A thought turned into a drabble turned into a fic. Thanks to @jennandbiltz for being my cheerleader/Padfoot/rock.

Sirius glanced up as the train pulled into the station, accidentally locking eyes with a wholly unremarkable man wearing tortoise shell glasses. He quickly looked down at his phone-locking eyes with someone on the subway was  _ not _ done, especially in London. 

 

He’d almost completely forgotten the entire incident when, a week later, he nearly collided with the same man on the other side of the city while exiting a cafe. 

 

“Sorry, sorry.” He muttered as he shifted his coffee and trying not to stare at the man. What were the odds? This was  _ London _ , not  _ Oxford _ . The other man got in line, and Sirius found himself sitting at a table outside even though he had appointments to keep. He was still completely unremarkable: his hair, coat and shoes were almost the same shade of brown. And yet, Sirius had recognized him almost instantly. 

 

He shook his head, re-tied his inky hair, and made his way back to the office. 

 

~~~

 

The following Saturday was unseasonably warm, and Sirius found himself strolling along a shaded path. He was meant to be thinking about work, but instead, he kept thinking about the man with the brown hair. He turned the corner and, as if Sirius’ mind had summoned him, there the man sat on a bench. He looked for all the world as if he were simply resting, but something in Sirius’ gut told him that the man was waiting for  _ him _ . 

 

Sirius sat down.

 

They sat in silence, listening to the birds stretch their voices after a winter of rest. Eventually, Sirius couldn’t keep his mouth shut any longer.

 

“I’m sorry if this seems rather precocious, but I feel as if I’m meant to know you. My name is Sirius.” He held out his hand.

 

The other man looked up and smiled, grasping Sirius’ hand in his own. It was warm and heavily calloused. “My name is Remus.”

 

They locked eyes again, and this time, Sirius’ breath caught in his throat. Remus’ eyes flashed golden before settling to brown. 

 

“Are you enjoying your stroll, Sirius?”

 

“What?” Sirius glanced around as if realizing what he’d been doing before. “Ah, yes. I often like to walk while I think.”

 

Remus leaned against the back of the bench, stretching his legs out into the walking path. “And what was it that you were thinking about today?”

 

Sirius felt his cheeks heating, and stared at the dirt between his shoes. “Ah, nothing really.” This time, the silence between them felt like baited breath. “I was thinking about you, actually.”

 

“I am often delighted to find myself being referred to as ‘nothing’.” But there was a smile in his voice, and when Sirius glanced up, it was on Remus’ face as well.

 

Sirius laced his fingers together. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered, unlacing his fingers only to tangle them in his hair. 

 

“Is it? Or is it fate, pulling us together?”

 

Sirius peered over, but Remus’ face had settled into something altogether more serious. “That is quite a romantic notion to propose to someone you’ve just met.”

 

“Have we just met though?” Remus rubbed one finger along the edge of his jaw. “I believe we have met twice before, at least.”

 

Sirius stared at him. 

 

Suddenly, an extraordinarily large black dog bounded out of the trees, skidding to a halt at Remus’ feet. Remus patted the hound on the head. “Yes, yes, alright, Pads.” He rose, and gave a rather courtly bow, complete with hand flourish. “Until we meet again, Sirius.”

 

Both Remus and the dog disappeared around the curve of the path.

 

~~~

 

By summer, Remus and Sirius had been on a dozen dates. Their lives fit together like puzzle pieces-inherently separate, but blending together at the edges to form something larger.

 

“I know we've only been together for a few months,” Sirius told his best friend James, one afternoon in mid-July. “But I feel like he's been a part of my life  _ forever. _ ” 

 

James nodded, taking a sip from his beer. “It does feel that way. He fit in even more quickly than Lily.”

 

The boys glanced across the garden, to where Remus was helping Lily re-pot some plants. From the open window, a timer started beeping.

 

“That'll be dinner.” Lily stood up, brushing dirt off her hands.

 

James rose as well. “Sirius and I will get it, love. You and Remus finish, then to wash up.” He dropped a kiss on his wife's hair, then headed inside.

 

~~~

 

“Move in with me.” Sirius’ eyes were bright, reflecting the light of the moon, pouring in through the bedroom window. 

 

Remus blinked up at him, splayed on the bed beneath Sirius. The corner of his mouth turned up. “You're asking now?”

 

Sirius pressed his eyes against the warm skin of Remus’ shoulder. “Yes, now. Move in with me.”

 

“Why now?” Remus’ fingers traced up and down Sirius’ spine.

 

“Because it's Thursday. Because it's the full moon. Because it's been a year since our eyes met at the train station and in only a year, you've woven yourself so intricately into my life that everything would fall apart if you left.” Sirius still had his eyes pressed against Remus’ shoulder, but his fingers tightened their grip on his arms. “Please. Move in with me.”

 

“Alright.”

 

~~~

 

For six months, Sirius felt like he could conquer the world. He came home to Remus every night, and woke up to him every morning. They went out with friends; they stayed home on the couch. Anywhere they were together, Sirius was content.

 

The full moon was ‘their night.’ It had started as a joke-the month after Sirius asked Remus to move in with him had turned hectic with work and furniture shifting, and it wasn’t until the next full moon that the two of them had a sit-down meal together in their new flat.

 

“Another full spent together. Is this starting to be a theme?” Remus had teased, pointing a forkful of pasta across the table at Sirius.

 

But Sirius had been watching the way Remus’ hair turned golden in the moonlight, and silently vowed to never miss another opportunity to see Remus glow. 

 

Remus called him from work one morning, half mad with panic. “Sirius, darling, I've left the McKinnon papers in my desk drawer. Is there any way you can run them by? They'll be here in half an hour.”

 

Sirius laughed as he headed up to his boyfriend's office. “Of course. Where are they, exactly?” He opened the door and weaved his way through the towers of books to the desk.

 

“I think they're in the top right drawer. In a red folder.” There was shuffling on the line. “That'll be their secretary. I've got to run. See you in a bit!”

 

Sirius stuck his phone in his pocket, still chuckling to himself. The top right drawer stuck a bit, and when he finally got it open, there were two red folders, right on top. 

 

Knowing how scatterbrained his wonderful, crazy boyfriend was, Sirius very carefully opened the first folder.

 

It was a collage of photographs surrounded by some kind of poem.

 

_ Thrice you'll meet, thrice he'll ask.  _

_ He'll write it on the looking glass.  _

_ You must have faith, you cannot tell.  _

_ Only then will you break the spell. _

 

Sirius furrowed his brow, peering down at the pictures. The one right at the top was of him and Remus that past April, when they'd taken a weekend trip to Warsaw.

 

The rest of them seemed to be pictures of him and Remus as well, though he couldn't recall any of the occasions, and some of the photographs looked sepia-filtered. He was *certain* they'd never been to the Eiffel Tower together. 

 

The folder below was the one Remus seeked, and Sirius quickly shoved the other one back in the drawer.  _ Later,  _ he told himself.  _ We will definitely talk about this later _ .

 

Sirius delivered the McKinnon papers, received several blessings from both his boyfriend and his boyfriend’s secretary, and went straight back to Remus’ office when he got home. 

 

With a very deep breath, he re-opened the folder. There were hundreds of photograph copies, from all over the world. Every single one had Sirius. Some were in front of famous landmarks, some were just in someone’s garden.

 

Near the bottom of the stack, there were three prints of oil portraits. 

 

~~~

 

By the time Remus came home from work, Sirius had migrated to the living room and divided the photos into stacks, based on what seemed to be the year, written on the back.

 

Remus cleared his throat gently from the doorway. “Hello, love.”

 

Sirius glanced up. “Hi. I…” he gestured to the stacks. “I found these while I was looking for the McKinnon papers.”

 

After several moments, Remus made his way to the couch. He looked quite pale. “Did you find the… poem?”

 

Sirius produced the first paper, and though Remus took it, his eyes were squeezed shut. 

 

“Rem, I-”

 

“Please, Sirius.” The pain on his face was evident. “Please don't ask me. I can't.” The paper crinkled as he clutched it, and Sirius glanced down.

 

_ You must have faith, you cannot tell.  _

_ Only then will you break the spell. _

 

“Alright.” He moved to the couch, wrapping Remus up in his arms. They stayed that way for a long time, the only movement the telltale shake of Remus’ shoulders.

 

~~~

 

Tuesday morning roused Sirius early, typical for September. He extracted himself from his sleeping lover, pressing a kiss to his temple and stealing to the bathroom. 

 

He stared at his reflection, thinking about how jumpy Remus had been since last week. He had to do  _ something _ to prove that everything was okay, that he wouldn't ask questions about things he shouldn't. Because somehow, deep down, he  _ knew _ he shouldn't.

 

Still hazy with sleep, Sirius grabbed his lip liner and scrawled on Remus’ side of the mirror.

 

_ I love you _

 

~~~

 

For the very first time, Remus was not home when Sirius arrived that evening. Perhaps the office had held him late?

 

Sirius went about his routine, turning on lights and music. It wasn’t until he entered their bedroom to change his clothes that he recalled his hasty decision from that morning. Suddenly, the black letters mocked him-had he messed this up? They hadn't said the ‘L’ word yet. Maybe writing it had been a bad idea?

 

But Sirius knew, in his heart of hearts, that that wasn't it. He and Remus had been doing everything  _ except _ say it for months. 

 

He reached out to trace the letters with his finger. The moment the liner touched his skin, the room erupted with green smoke and silver sparks.

 

Sirius froze, and the smoke cleared, revealing Remus, wearing what looked like a Renaissance-era nightgown. As soon as his feet touched the floor, Remus ran to Sirius, peppering his face with kisses.

 

“I love you, I love you, I love you.”

 

It was several moments before Sirius’ brain caught up with his eyes. “Remus… Were you just floating?  _ What _ are you wearing? I-”

 

Remus pressed his lips against Sirius’, and smiled when the other man fell silent. “I have so, so much to tell you.” He twined their fingers together and tugged Sirius into his office. 

 

~~~

 

Italy, 1547

 

Remus and Sirius hid their relationship successfully for three years. But Sirius’ mother was preparing to marry him off, and he was running out of excuses.

 

In addition to being the matriarch of one of the most powerful families in Italy, Walburga was also a sorceress of extraordinary strength. When she discovered Sirius’ affair with Remus, she cursed them both.

 

Remus would be so utterly unremarkable that even the Angel of Death would forget him.

 

It took Remus three generations to find someone powerful enough to alter the curse. Minerva worked day and night, until finally, on the full moon, the means to break the spell tumbled out of her cauldron.

 

_ Thrice you'll meet, thrice he'll ask.  _

_ He'll write it on the looking glass.  _

_ You must have faith, you cannot tell.  _

_ Only then will you break the spell. _

 

“You must not tell him,” Minerva stressed as she packed him a satchel of food. “He must do these things of his own volition, or you will have to wait until his next life.”

 

~~~

 

On the very last (and longest) full moon of the year, Sirius was scrambling to make their bedroom as romantic as possible. Setting up candles, hiding away laundry. He even fluffed all the pillows.

 

When Remus emerged from the shower, the bathroom was thick with steam. Sirius watched from the bedroom with his breath stuck in his chest. Slowly, the steam cleared, revealing Sirius’ posh-educated handwriting once again on the bathroom mirror.

 

_ Will you marry me? _

 

Their eyes met in their reflections, and, just like that first time on the train, Sirius felt sparks. This time, though, he didn’t drop his gaze.

 

Tears welled up in Remus’ eyes, and he practically threw himself into Sirius.

 

“Yes, yes, a thousand times, yes!” He sobbed, pressing kisses across Sirius’ face.


End file.
